


Quiet Indiscretions

by worldturtling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Marriage, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldturtling/pseuds/worldturtling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of The Americans. The Novaks are the perfect american family on paper. It's a cover Dean will keep up until it falls apart around him, but he has doubts about how far his centre-appointed husband is willing to go to do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Indiscretions

You’re doing the dishes.

You do the dishes every night, except for Friday when you both take the kids out to Sunny’s Diner. A local and friendly place where the waiters already know you, already know your order.

You’re  staring at the yellow wallpaper in the kitchen, tiny white flowers printed on it. Little cracks decorate it like wrinkles in the material. You yearn to rip it off, rip clean strips of the wall right off and lay it out naked and bare. Expose the walls of this home, yellowing tile, dark wooden floorboards with the scratches from the constantly moved furniture.

You’re wondering how long it’ll take for the phone to ring. You’re wondering how long you’ll go tonight before you have to kill someone.

Turns out it’s not long.

-

The man looks at you pleadingly.

Man?

Your husband. Of 12 years at least now. No, of 12 years and 6 months. You know how long, you just pretend to not count.

He looks at you and pleads. The government would accept them. The government would take them. They just had to be honest. They just had to be naked.

And then he looks at you with colder eyes. Determined eyes. Angry ones. And he threatens to take the children. Your children. The ones you birthed. The ones you agreed to conceive to maintain a farce. The ones that clawed out your uteral lining to come out into the world, who took and took and took from your body just like your country takes and takes from your body. And you give it, you always will give it, because you belong to each other, and you belong together.

But this man, this husband, threatens to tear that down. The tossed out threat to abduct you into his plans is discarded by you. You see him coming. He doesn’t always know what you’re hiding, contrary to what he’d like to believe.

You look at the man you’re both harboring from the law. Both laws. He sits hogtied in a trunk, with a crude gag made of garage towels, and you think, how fitting for a crude man. His cold eyes look at you, with that same callous victory he showed so many personalities ago.

You don’t dare stain your tongue with his name. You don’t have to.

“Alastair is our ticket out of here.” Jim says. Jim Novak. The only name you ever knew him by. You were told to never ask for his real name, and vice versa. So you never did.

Jim is untying the pale and bony man.

You shove him. He sounds like he’s about to retaliate, but he must notice. You’re untying the hands that bind the traitor. You’re untying the gag from his head, drool stains dank and leaving it smelling of the rot in the traitor’s mouth.

You haul him up.  


Before, your leaner body, he could push you down, all wired muscle, agile. And who were you to question a superior officer?

When he takes your fist to his cheek, he doesn’t resist.

When he takes your knee to his crotch, he laughs and spits blood.

When you shove him against concrete and pummel his kidneys, he wheezes.

And when you squeeze one hand around his throat, he’s quiet. He’s watching you. And you can feel Jim watching you, confused.

You drop him and he sputters, coughs wetly into the floor. You turn abruptly.

“Do whatever you want with him.” You don’t care anymore. Let him be the face for traitors everywhere.

“It was different…back then,” his weazing has you stop on the third step up. “They told us we could have our fun. You were always a perfect student, Dean.”

You close your eyes.

“Dean?” Jimmy asks. He didn’t know. And now he does. “What… what is he talking about?” Jimmy’s voice is hoarser. You turn in time to see him come at Alastair. He hauls him up. You see between them. You see Jimmy’s hand, you’ve seen them work a garrote around a man’s throat in less than 30 seconds. You see him now using his hands with the same determination to slice through with his blunt fingers.

The centre won’t be happy about the dead traitor.

-

He doesn’t touch you that night, blessedly. And maybe he does learn sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more.


End file.
